Possession Can Do Weird Things To A Guy
by fanboy-anonymous
Summary: Sam and Dean are on their way to help Bobby out with a case in Ohio. But after his recent run-in with a Pishacha demon, Dean is still feeling a little shaken up. Not only that, but he is also strangely, and uncontrollably, horny... Contains "Wincest" .
1. Chapter 1

"**POSSESSION CAN DO WEIRD THINGS TO A GUY"**

**chapter one**

Dean Winchester looked down at his brother's face. It was bruised and bloodied, twisted in agony. And there was blood everywhere. It was in Sam's hair, dripping down his face and neck, smeared across his forehead.

Sam was screaming out in pain, his mouth wide open and his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

Dean looked down. He was holding the hilt of a knife in his hand, the blade of which was buried deep inside Sam's chest. He slowly withdrew the blade, stumbling backwards, and watched in horror as an alarming volume of blood poured from the wound and streamed down Sam's naked body. Soon, his brother's skin was almost entirely covered in the syrupy, crimson liquid.

Sam's eyes went dead, his head falling to one side as the life drained out of him. But the stream of blood wouldn't stop. It continued to flow from his torso, down his legs, and spread out onto the floor in a huge pool. It swamped Dean's bare feet in seconds and began to rise quickly, threatening to fill the entire room.

Dean tried to move, but he couldn't control his own body; it was like his feet were glued to the floor. Suddenly, his head lifted involuntarily, and he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall.

He stood naked, spattered with Sam's blood, and gripping the knife that had just carved a hole in his brother's chest. But most disturbing of all was the wicked smile on his face, and his eyes, which had turned black as night...

…

**09:12 p.m.**

"Sammy!"

Dean choked, gasping for breath as he jolted awake from the nightmare. For a few moments, all he could see were flashing lights in the darkness. Headlights from passing cars, he realized, as he brought his hand up to his eyes and tried to rub away the sleepy haze.

He was slumped in the passenger seat of the Impala, his head pressed against the cold window.

"I'm here, Dean," said a voice close by, calm and soothing.

Sam...

Dean's breathing steadied, relief flooding through his body. Sam was fine. Sam was here.

He felt his brother's hand grip his thigh, gentle and reassuring. He lifted his head away from the window and turned to see Sam in the driver's seat, his body silhouetted against the bright glow of the passing headlights.

Suddenly, everything came screaming back to him with one word:

_Pishacha._

He remembered everything. He felt like he might suffocate, or scream, or throw up. He twisted in the seat, struggling against the restraints of his seatbelt, gasping for air again.

"Dean," said Sam, gripping his thigh harder. "It's okay. He's dead, remember?"

"Sammy!" Dean roared. He threw his head back, gritting his teeth as every muscle in his body tensed and clamped tight.

"Dean!" yelled Sam, pulling his hand away from Dean's thigh and swerving the car across the road. The tires screeched and car horns blared as they cut across the next lane of the highway before braking at the side of the road.

Sam flung off his seatbelt and clambered over onto Dean's lap, taking his brother's face in his hands and staring into his frantic eyes.

"Dean, breathe!" he screamed, watching as his brother's face turned pale, his eyes glazing over. Dean's whole body was tensed and shaking beneath him. He couldn't breathe.

Sam squeezed Dean's cheeks, parting his lips, before leaning down and pressing their mouths together. He blew a warm blast of breath into Dean's mouth, inflating his chest. Dean immediately exhaled, coughing and gasping, his body shaking in Sam's arms as his brother held him in closer. He took in another large gulp of air, breathing against Sam's neck, taking in Sam's scent.

His muscles began to relax, his head falling back against the passenger seat as he slipped back into unconsciousness. And this time, his sleep was blissfully free of dreams.

…

**10:36 p.m.**

The light from the motel's _No Vacancy_ sign filled the inside of the Impala. It cast a bright pink glow across Dean's face as he slept, his tall frame folded awkwardly onto the back seat.

When the car door creaked, Dean's eyes fluttered open. He blinked through the haze in time to see his younger brother slide into the driver's seat, closing the door behind him and dumping a bulging paper bag onto the passenger seat. Knowing Sam, it was likely to be full of chips, candy and soda from the motel vending machine.

Sam started the engine of the car and flicked on the heater, turning it up full blast. Warm air flooded out through the vents and filled the car in moments, while Sam shivered and rubbed his bare arms. Despite the fact that it was freezing cold outside, he was only wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, and Dean wondered why – until he looked down and noticed that Sam's jacket was wrapped around him like a blanket. His own jacket was rolled up beneath his head like a pillow.

"Hey," Dean croaked, sitting up in the back seat and clearing his throat. "You want your jacket back?"

"Nah," Sam said, without turning around. He glanced at his brother in the rear-view mirror. "You keep it. You should go back to sleep."

"I'm not tired anymore," Dean lied. He fervently rubbed his eyes, trying to appear awake.

Sam snorted a quiet laugh. "Dean, it's been five days since you got back control of your body. And you've slept less than twelve hours."

"Huh?" Dean frowned, sliding his cellphone out of his pocket and flipping it open.

Sam was right. It had been five days.

Five days since Sam had saved his life. Five days since he had exorcised the Pishacha demon from his body, and sent it hurtling back to Hell.

It had all felt like a blur in the aftermath of the possession; Dean was only now beginning to regain his perception of time and reality, of the world around him, of his own body.

"Yeah, well it's more sleep than we usually get, so..." Dean smiled weakly, clamping the phone shut and tossing it aside. He felt a slight stinging near his left shoulder and, suddenly remembering the source of the pain, he slid his hand inside the neck of his shirt and ran his fingers across the small patch of raised, sore skin on his chest.

Sam watched him in the rear-view mirror. "How's the tattoo?" he asked sympathetically, running his fingers across his own chest at the same point, where he had been branded with the same mark – an anti-possession symbol.

"Okay," Dean replied through gritted teeth. "It's worth the pain, just to know those demonic bastards can't hop into my meat-suit ever again. 'Cause that last time, I _really_ felt violated."

"Tell me about it," Sam said quietly, looking away from his brother's reflection. The Pishacha had taken great pleasure in tormenting Sam about his relationship with Dean. He had known everything – their history, their thoughts, their desires... all of their dirty little secrets.

The demon had also forced Dean to watch helpless from inside his own body while he seduced Sam, and then humiliated him. The encounter had left a slightly uneasy air between the brothers.

Sam turned in his seat and studied Dean's tired face in the sickly pink light pouring in through the window. His eyes were ringed with dark circles, and he looked pale and sapped of energy.

"You should sleep," Sam said. "Bobby's waiting for us in Ohio. We should be there by noon tomorrow."

Dean gazed into Sam's eyes for a moment and knew his brother was still worried about him. Even through tired eyes, he could see that Sam still cared. Maybe things would be okay between them after all. Eventually...

"Okay," he sighed, relenting. He still felt pretty exhausted. The Pishacha seemed to have drained him of most of his energy, and he knew he should get as much sleep as possible before they met up with Bobby and moved onto their next job.

Sam turned back around in his seat, gripping the steering wheel and taking one last look at Dean in the rear-view mirror, before pulling away from the motel and turning onto the highway.

Dean lay back and closed his eyes, pulling Sam's jacket up around him and burying his face in it, breathing in the heart-achingly familiar scent of his brother. He moaned lightly, and felt his groin tingle to life just as the world fell away to darkness...


	2. Chapter 2

"**POSSESSION CAN DO WEIRD THINGS TO A GUY" **

**chapter two**

**11:57 p.m.**

"Hey, Sammy?" Dean asked from the backseat.

"Yeah?" Sam replied.

"I got a big question."

"Hmmm?"

"I'm not sure how to ask it."

"Just ask it."

"Okay. But I want a straight answer. Just tell me how you really feel."

"What is it?" Sam asked, getting nervous.

"Okay... Who would you rather do – Jennifer Love Hewitt or Sarah Michelle Gellar?"

Sam laughed, choking on a mouthful of cola. He turned in his seat, wiping his chin and glaring at Dean. "That's your big question?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah," said Dean. "Would you bang Buffy or the Ghost Whisperer?" He propped himself up on his elbow on the backseat, waiting for his answer. He was surrounded by empty candy wrappers and bags of chips, and was munching on a cheeseburger that Sam had bought from a drive-thru, after Dean had woken up ten minutes ago, suddenly ravenous.

"You're a dork," Sam chuckled, turning back around and starting the engine. The heater came to life, blowing out warm air, and Sam rubbed his arms. Dean looked down. Sam's jacket was still wrapped around him, the sweet smell of his brother's flesh wafting up from the warm fabric, instantly comforting. He didn't want Sam to be cold, but he didn't want to give up the jacket either. He figured he deserved to be a little selfish right now.

"Well?" he asked, through a mouthful of burger.

Sam sighed. He wasn't in the mood for this, but if it kept Dean distracted, then...

"Jennifer Love Hewitt," he said, before taking another swig of cola.

Dean chuckled. "Ghost Whisperer. I knew it."

"Well, I guess we have the whole psychic thing in common, so..." Sam shrugged. He glanced in the rear-view mirror to find Dean sat up in the back seat, staring at him.

"Just admit it, Sammy," Dean smirked. "It's the tits."

…

**02:04 a.m.**

After drifting in and out of sleep for a while, Dean found himself wide awake and, inexplicably, horny as hell.

He couldn't even remember having had an erection in the five days since the demonic possession, so he found the fact that he was now raging hard somewhat of a comfort. He was glad everything was in working order again, and the uncomfortable, restrictive feeling in the crotch of his jeans was an oddly pleasant confirmation that the demon hadn't damaged him beyond repair.

However, Dean was also completely frustrated as to what to do about the fact that he had almost a week's worth of sexual tension to relieve. It's not like he could just start jerking off in the back of the car, right...?

The minutes ticked by, and Dean's predicament showed no sign of solving itself. His dick was still throbbing hard, apparently unwilling to go back to its flaccid state until it had expelled the back-up in his pipes.

He prodded at the bulge in his jeans, and muttered, "Go away."

He tried to think of every un-sexy thing he could imagine. Marriage; creepy clowns; doing it with a shapeshifter... But nothing worked.

…

**02:19 a.m.**

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Stop the car," he demanded, sitting up in the backseat.

"Why?" Sam asked, bemused.

"Please, just stop," Dean said. "I have to..."

Sam pulled the car into the side of the road, unclipped his seatbelt and turned around to face Dean. "Have to what...?" he asked, looking on bewildered as Dean flung the jacket off and raised his hips up off the seat, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly.

"What are you-"

"Get me some tissues," snarled Dean, pushing his jeans down over his hips and sitting his bare ass back down on the seat. His erect cock sprung free of its restraints. Dean grabbed it, closing his eyes and leaning back, beginning to stroke himself off.

"Are you seriously gonna-"

"Get the tissues!" interrupted Dean, jerking the warm flesh faster in his hand. "I am so freakin' horny you wouldn't believe it, Sam. It feels like I haven't shot my load in a month. I have to get it out of me!"

Sam raised his hands. "Okay, okay," he said quietly, turning to search the glove box for tissues and finding a pack beneath a copy of Busty Asian Beauties and a book of demonic exorcisms. He turned back and held out a bundle of tissues to his brother, who stared back through squinted eyes, beads of sweat beginning to slide down his forehead.

Dean snatched the tissues from Sam's hand, holding them tight in his fist as he used his other hand to work himself harder, his face turning red.

"Don't _watch_ me!" he growled through gritted teeth, trying to concentrate.

"Oh, please," snorted Sam. "Like I haven't seen it a thousand times."

"I know, but it's _weird_!" Dean pleaded.

"We hunt demons for a living, and you think a guy watching his big brother jerk off is weird?" Sam chuckled. "No, scratch that – a guy who hunts demons _fucking_ his big brother since he was _fourteen_?!"

Dean's stomach trembled. "Don't make me laugh," he begged. "I'm trying to concentrate."

Sam turned back in the driver's seat and tilted the rear-view mirror to the right angle so that he could watch.

Dean continued to beat off, and soon he could feel himself nearing the point of no return. "Oh, God, this is it," he said, breathless. Three more strokes and a huge volume of thick white semen came out of him in several spurts, shooting up onto his t-shirt and dribbling over his fingers as he stroked slower and gentler, gasping for breath.

He seemed to stay in a state of euphoria for several minutes, not realizing he had forgotten to use the tissues. There was a slight smile on his face, his eyes still closed, before he eventually let go of his still-hard cock and looked down to study the sticky mess splattered across his t-shirt.

"So much for the tissues," he muttered to himself, wiping at the mess before giving up and tossing the tissues aside, then pulling off his t-shirt and throwing it on the seat beside him. He lifted his head to gaze at Sam in the rear-view mirror, dazed.

"Better?" Sam smirked.

"You know what?" Dean said, peering down with wide eyes at his cock, which was still aching hard. "I don't think I'm done yet."

Sam turned in his seat and stared down at his brother's proud member in disbelief. "Are you serious?" he asked.

"I guess demonic possession can do weird things to a guy," Dean shrugged. "Too bad it won't be happening again." He tapped the anti-possession tattoo on his chest.

Without hesitation, Sam pulled off his shirt and climbed over until he was on the backseat with Dean. He slid his arm around Dean's neck and pulled him down on top of him, kissing him softly on the lips. He pulled away, gazing up at his brother, and bit his lip.

Grinning playfully, he said, "Well I guess we better make the most of it, then..."

…

**5.20 p.m.**

"And your name please, sir?" asked the motel receptionist. She peered up at Dean from behind her horn-rimmed glasses, which were attached to a chain around her neck. She was in her late forties, red-haired and pale-skinned; she looked like a school teacher or a librarian. Or what Dean imagined a librarian might look like.

"McBeal," Dean answered, clearing his throat nervously.

"And your first name?" she inquired, squinting down at the register as she scribbled.

"Ally," Dean said, his cheeks flushing hot pink. The woman stopped scribbling, lifted her head and gazed up at him, open-mouthed.

"_Ally McBeal_...?" she asked sardonically, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"You couldn't make it up," Dean smiled awkwardly, shrugging. The receptionist kept her gaze on him for several uneasy moments, before writing the name in the register and slamming the huge hardback book shut.

"And will you be paying by cash or card, _Mr. McBeal_?"

"Cash," said Dean, taking a roll of twenties out of his jacket pocket and handing her four of them. She took the money, which was twice the price of the room, and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Could you make sure that we aren't disturbed in any way tonight?" he asked.

"We...?" the receptionist probed, looking around, slightly confused.

"Yes. My, uh, brother and me..." Dean said, pointing over his shoulder at the Impala, which was parked outside the window. Sam sat in the passenger seat, smiling knowingly. He gave a little wave.

The receptionist smiled back, and then looked up at Dean. "Of course, Mr. McBeal," she smirked, sliding her glasses down her nose and peering over them. "I'm sure you and your brother will have a most _pleasurable_ stay..."

Dean snatched the room key out of her hand, turned on his heels and marched out of the reception. He climbed into the driver's seat of the Impala, started the engine and backed out of the parking space, manoeuvring the car over to the spot outside their room.

"I _will_ get you back for that," he said, without looking over at Sam, who was shaking in silent laughter.

…

Less than ten minutes later, Sam was bent over the breakfast table in the corner of the motel room, his jeans and underwear around his knees. The hard surface dug into his ribs as Dean pushed down on him, fucking him fast and rough, his abdomen pounding against the warm flesh of Sam's buttocks.

Sam's breath jutted out of him in sharp blasts as his body shunted forward again and again, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table. Dean leaned down and pressed his body against Sam's back. His arm slid around Sam's neck and he yanked his brother up towards him until they both stood upright.

Dean felt Sam's ass tighten around his cock as he continued thrusting into him. Sam gasped loudly, throwing his head back against Dean's shoulder. Dean kissed his brother 's neck, licking and biting at the hot flesh, moaning and breathing hard through his nose.

Sam lifted his arm and flung it back around Dean's neck, turning his head and letting their mouths crash together, lips meeting and tongues licking at each other hungrily.

"Aw, fuck... Dean!" said Sam, breathing the words into Dean's open mouth. Dean could taste the sweet scent of his brother's breath, and it sent him over the edge. He couldn't hold back any longer. He held onto Sam's hips and thrust quicker.

"Oh God, Sammy," he murmured. "I think I'm gonna -"

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

Dean stopped mid-thrust, his breath catching in his throat. Sam turned his head and peered back at Dean, squinting, sweat dripping down his forehead.

"Was that the door?" he whispered.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

"Uh, we don't need any fresh towels right now!" Dean yelled over his shoulder.

"Let me in, y'ijit!" Bobby grumbled from the other side of the door.

"Oh, fuck!" whispered Sam, pushing Dean off him and yanking up his jeans, fumbling with the belt buckle. Dean stumbled backwards, trying to pull up his boxer shorts and almost tripping over the jeans around his ankles.

"Just a second, Bobby!" Sam cried, buttoning up his shirt.

"Come on!" Bobby yelled. "What are you two doin' in there, making out?"

The brothers stopped dead and stared at each other, wide-eyed. After a moment of silence, they gave simultaneous bouts of awkward, fake laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

"**POSSESSION CAN DO WEIRD THINGS TO A GUY" **

**chapter three**

A strangled cry reverberated off the walls, and Dean threw his arm up to protect his eyes as the room filled with a flash of blinding white light. Moments later, everything was dark and quiet again.

Dean lowered his arm and found himself face to face with Bobby and Sam. The poltergeist was gone.

"Job done," murmured Bobby, slamming shut his little book of exorcisms and incantations, sliding it into his jacket pocket and adjusting his trucker cap. Sam sighed deep in his chest and lowered the rock salt-loaded shotgun he was holding, staring at Dean.

The case had been fairly routine poltergeist stuff. The moody, violent spirit of a post-suicidal teenage runaway had been trapped on the premises for months, but it had taken Bobby and the Winchesters only a few hours to cleanse the building, sending the restless spirit hurtling into the next world.

Dean was glad. He was still painfully aroused, and had spent most of the time wandering around the dilapidated building with his erect cock pressed against his left thigh. Halfway into the night, Bobby had glimpsed the obvious bulge in Dean's pants and scoffed, shaking his head.

"Something about this exciting you, boy?" he had teased, shotgun in hand, his eyes still scoping out the darkened room. When he turned back round, Dean's face had looked red and flushed, even in the dark.

"W- what?" Dean stuttered. He pulled the edge of his jacket over his crotch."No. It's just, you know..." He shrugged, giving an awkward half-smile.

When the job was over, Dean's erection had subsided but his desire to get laid hadn't. He needed sex, and he needed it soon. He didn't know what the Pishacha demon's possession had done to him, but he was willing to enjoy the ride until things went back to normal.

The brothers accompanied Bobby back to the motel; he was staying three doors down from their room. They said goodnight in the parking lot and went their separate ways, agreeing to meet for breakfast in the morning.

Once he was safely inside the motel room, Dean pressed his ear against the door and listened for the sound of Bobby's room door closing. When he did, he spun around and said to Sam, "Don't start making the hot cocoa yet, Sammy. You and I are going back out."

Sam slowly turned to face his brother with a tired, weary look on his face. He had already unbuttoned half of his shirt and kicked off his shoes. "Huh?" he groaned, undoing more buttons.

"Come on, Sasquatch!" Dean grinned, stepping forwards and gazing up at his brother. As Sam undid the last button, Dean reached out and slid his hand up over Sam's bare torso. "We are gonna go out and find a bar, get some beers, pick up a couple of chicks, have some fun..."

Sam was already shaking his head, his eyes half-closed. "No way," he muttered. "Dean, I'm beat. I drove all last night to get us here. I just wanna stay here and relax."

Dean drew his hand away from Sam's chest and took a step backwards. "You want to have an early night...?" he asked, looking perplexed.

Sam nodded. He threw off his shirt and pushed his jeans down over his hips, letting them fall to the floor, before diving onto the bed. Burying his face in the pillows, he let out a loud sigh of relief.

Dean's mouth fell open and approached the foot of the bed, throwing his arms up in the air dramatically. "Are you kidding me, Sammy?" he asked incredulously. "We have to go out and enjoy this town. I am still _so_ freakin' hot!"

"Not my problem," Sam murmured into the pillow.

Dean folded his arms across his chest. "So what, you're just gonna sit around here all night? Order pizza, watch Busty Asian Beauties and practise your _America's Next Top Model_ face in the mirror...?"

"Something like that," Sam mumbled.

Dean shook his head. "How exciting," he said, unfolding his arms. "Sammy, you really are a geek, aren't you?"

"Mmm-hmmm," Sam sighed.

Dean studied his brother's muscular back and shoulders while they rose and fell as he breathed. He felt a simultaneous ache in his chest and twinge in his groin. All he really wanted was to be with Sam tonight. All he _ever_ really wanted was to be with Sam, though he would never admit it out loud. He'd rather die than look needy. Wanting someone that badly was weak. It was pathetic.

He stood silent for a moment, listening to Sam breathe, before turning on his heels and marching towards the door.

…

Sam drifted in and out of sleep for a while. When his stomach started rumbling loudly, he decided it was time to eat and forced himself up off the bed.

Still half asleep, he fumbled with buttons and zippers as he got dressed, then trudged zombie-like to the vending machine outside the motel reception. He bought two sandwiches, a large bag of chips, a handful of candy bars and two cans of soda, scooping the bounty up in his arms and shuffling back to the room.

After undressing, he threw his clothes over the back of the couch and sat on the edge of his bed. He tore open the pack of sandwiches and began stuffing them into his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed and moved onto the next bite. After consuming half of the chips and a couple of candy bars, he washed it down with a can of soda and fell back on the bed. He slid his hand over his full belly and let out a satisfied sigh.

_Okay,_ he thought, _that's feeding time over._ _Now what...? Watch TV? Listen to some music? Jerk off?_

Before he could make a decision, there was a knock at the door. Sam waited for a few seconds, wondering if it was just Dean messing around.

There was another knock.

Sam got up off the bed and pulled his jeans on, heading for the door and peering through the peep-hole. Recognizing the woman on the other side, he opened the door.

"Hello, Sam," she said with a faint smirk.

"Ruby," said Sam.

"Am I interrupting anything?" she asked, her eyes wandering over Sam's bare upper body and unbuckled belt.

"No."

"Then aren't you gonna invite me in? A girl could catch her death out here."

"You're no girl."

"You're damn right," Ruby sneered, pushing past Sam and entering the room.

Sam stuck his head out of the doorway and glanced around the parking lot, checking it was empty, before closing the door.


	4. Chapter 4

"**POSSESSION CAN DO WEIRD THINGS TO A GUY"**

**chapter four**

"Nice place," said Ruby, casting a critical eye over the motel room. She turned to find Sam standing near the door with his arms folded across his chest.

"What do you want, Ruby?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Straight down to business, huh...? No 'Hey, Ruby, how are you doing...?'"

Sam stared at her, his face expressionless.

"Not even a cup of coffee first?" she teased, approaching him slowly and stopping a few inches from his face. Sam immediately felt uncomfortable, but stood his ground.

Sensing that he wasn't in the mood for playing games, Ruby gave in. "I didn't find out much," she sighed. "It turns out Lilith's minions are surprisingly loyal to her. All I know is, she will stop at nothing to get what she wants. And right now, she wants your pretty little head on a stick."

Sam swallowed hard, turning his head away from her. She hadn't found out anything, so why was she here...? Did she just want to screw with his mind...? That's what she was best at, he reminded himself. He could never let himself forget that, however useful she might be, she was still a demon. He could never trust her completely.

"Is that it?" Sam asked, turning back to face her.

Ruby tilted her head to the side and frowned, pretending to look offended. "That's a little unappreciative, Sam. After all, I did go out of my way to come visit you."

"Why...? You didn't find out anything new."

_Not strictly true,_ Ruby thought. _But he doesn't need to know that yet..._

"Are you gonna get me that coffee now, or what?" she asked, changing the subject, her eyes moving over his naked torso.

Sam shook his head. "I think you'd better go. Dean will be back any minute."

"Ah," Ruby said. She turned her back on Sam and sauntered towards Dean's bed, sitting on the edge and crossing her legs. "And how is my number one fan these days? He's still going to hell, right...?"

She watched as Sam's eyes flickered with anger, his nostrils flaring and his biceps flexing as he tightened his arms across his chest. "Get out," he muttered.

The corners of Ruby's mouth curled up into a faint smile. It was fun provoking him; she enjoyed seeing him angry. It was the part of himself that he always tried to suppress, but it was the part that Ruby found most attractive. She longed to see him at his most animalistic; his most primal, basic self.

He would need to learn how to tap into that rage if he was going to win the battle against Lilith. Not that he knew much about that yet...

Ruby watched as Sam's face turned placid again. She knew she wasn't going to get much enjoyment from him tonight. His mind was obviously somewhere else.

"Fine," she said, the cruel smile falling from her face. She got up from the bed and headed for the door. "I'll let you and loverboy get back to your cosy night in."

Sam's heart missed a beat. His mouth opened as he tried, and failed, to respond.

"Oh yeah," smirked Ruby, seeing the shock on his face. "I know all about you, Sam. Every juicy, sordid little detail – right down to length and girth."

Sam stared at her, open-mouthed, unable to form a single sentence in reply.

"But a word of advice," she continued, opening the door and letting a rush of cool night air into the room. "Enjoy it while you can."

She stepped outside and rounded the corner, leaving Sam rooted to the spot in a daze, listening to her heels click against the concrete as she disappeared into the night.

…

Across the parking lot, hidden in the shadows, Dean watched as Ruby walked out of the motel room and left Sam standing alone in the doorway.

His heart sank in his chest.

Sam's hair was ruffled and messy. He wasn't wearing a shirt. His belt buckle was undone, his jeans slung low on his hips, revealing a few wisps of dark pubic hair. He seemed to remain deep in thought for a few moments, before finally closing the door. A second later, the lights went out and the room was left in darkness.

Listening to her receding footsteps echo in the distance, Dean briefly considered going after Ruby, then decided against it. What good would it do? Besides, he was sure the bitch would come in handy at some point in their fight with the demon who wanted Sam dead.

Dean's hands tightened into fists at his side. _It may not be tonight,_ he thought. _But I will kill you, you black-eyed skank._

He took one last glance at the darkened motel room before flipping open his cellphone and scrolling down to the number he'd programmed in less than an hour ago. He hit the _dial_ button and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" a woman's voice answered.

"Hey," said Dean. "It's Robert. You know, the talent agent...?"

"Sure. Hi, handsome."

"Look, there's been a slight change of plan. Apparently, my brother doesn't need me here tonight after all, so... I'm available."

"Awesome."

"Yeah. Are you still at the bar?"

"Mmm-hmm. Hurry up and get your cute ass back down here..."

…

Sam woke to the sound of heavy breathing and the rhythmic squeaking of mattress springs.

The room was in darkness. He wiped his eyes and squinted over at the clock, which glowed _1:23 a.m._ in bright green digits. Turning onto his back and gazing over in the direction of Dean's bed, all Sam could make out was a mass of skin – arms and legs entwined, writhing together in the dark. But the more he stared, the more detailed the picture became as the sleep began to wear off.

In the sliver of blue moonlight that beamed through the gap in the drapes, Sam could see her.

She had long, wavy hair. Her eyes were closed, her face turned up to the ceiling, and one arm flung up over her head. Dean lay in between her thighs, his buttocks clenching slightly as he pushed into her again and again, his breath jutting out of him with each thrust. His mouth was working its way over her breasts, licking and sucking at her nipples. She moaned louder as he pushed deeper inside her, his mouth never leaving her skin.

Sam watched, his throat turning dry, as a single bead of sweat slowly made its way over the curve of Dean's shoulder blades, eventually sliding into the small of his back and resting there.

Sam couldn't watch any more. He turned over onto his stomach and pressed his face into the pillows, pretending to be asleep.

"Are you sure your brother doesn't mind...?" he heard the woman whisper breathlessly.

"Don't worry about it," grunted Dean. The bed frame began to creak louder.

Sam's eyes opened in time to catch a glimpse of Dean looking his way. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before Sam snapped his shut and rolled over, facing the other side of the room. He pulled the sheets up over his ears in a futile attempt to drown out the noise, wishing he would fall back asleep.

…

When it was over, Sam lay still beneath the sheets, listening as the girl got dressed and called herself a taxi. All the while, Dean fed her a line about calling her in the next few days, pretending he was interested in signing her up to his "talent agency."

She and Dean made inane chit-chat until the cab arrived, and he kissed her goodbye at the door, closing and locking it behind her.

The room fell silent as Dean turned to face his brother, already regretting what he had done, and knowing the guilt he would feel when he saw the hurt on Sam's face.

When he saw the outline of his brother's tall frame curled up beneath the sheets, hugging his knees in close, he immediately felt a pang in his chest. No matter how angry he was that Sam had met Ruby behind his back, there was no excuse for what he'd just done. If there was one thing in the world that could make Dean feel bad, it was hurting Sam – intentionally or otherwise.

Underneath the sheets, Sam listened intently, expecting to hear Dean flick the light switch and go back to bed. Instead, his brother spoke.

"Sam," he said gently, his voice full of remorse. Sam's heart began to thud harder in his chest, but he didn't answer.

"Sam," Dean said again. "I know you're awake. That's not how you breathe when you're asleep."

"How do you know...?" Sam murmured. He listened to the light footsteps as Dean crossed the room, and felt the mattress shift as Dean lay down beside him, lifting the sheets and sliding underneath. He brought his arm around and held onto Sam's chest, pulling himself in closer until their warm bodies were pressed together, Dean's face buried in Sam's hair.

Sam swallowed hard. His heart was pounding against the palm of Dean's hand.

"Dean, don't," he whispered.

"Sammy, I'm sorry," Dean breathed against the back of his neck. "You know how I've been lately. Whatever that Pishacha demon did to me... Plus, I was angry, okay?"

"Why...?"

"I saw her, Sam... I saw Ruby."

Sam sighed quietly. Now he understood the problem. He turned over on his side to face Dean, resting a hand on his brother's hip.

"What was she doing here?" pressed Dean, looking like a wounded puppy. "I saw you. You were half-naked, Sam."

Sam frowned. "You were spying on me?"

Dean ran his hand up the muscular contours of Sam's arm. "I was on my way back here to apologize for being such a jerk. And then when I saw that bitch walking out of here, I just..."

"What...?" Sam interrupted. "You thought you'd bring some girl back here and screw her in front of me...? Make me jealous?"

"No, I–"

Sam scrambled out from under the sheets, getting to his feet and pacing across the room. He stopped in front of the bathroom door and spun around, his face distorted with anger.

"What makes you think I care where you stick your dick, Dean?" he spat, staring hard at his brother.

Dean got out of bed and strode over to stand in front of Sam. "I know you do, Sammy," he smiled weakly, making an attempt to diffuse the situation.

But Sam glared back at him, clearly unamused. "You're a cunt," he seethed.

Dean raised an eyebrow, obviously taken aback. "I'm a what...?"

"You heard me. I don't care what that demon did to you, because you've been acting like a jerk for way longer than that. You have lead me on and then pushed me away, tried to make me jealous, and suddenly you want me again...?"

"I'm not the one fucking a demon," Dean growled, his eyes lit up with anger.

"I am not sleeping with Ruby!" Sam cried, exasperated. "I don't trust her any more than you do, Dean, but she is the only lead we've got!"

"Then why do you always look so cosy around her, Sam?"

Sam scoffed, shaking his head disbelievingly. "Are you mad because I might want a demon, or because I might want someone that _isn't you_...?" he demanded.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He was clearly lost for words, and Sam knew he had hit a nerve.

"That's it, isn't it?" Sam said. "You want me to sit around pining for you like some lovesick puppy, while you go out and sleep with as many girls as you want – just to show me you can. Just to show me how little I mean to you."

Dean stayed quiet, dropping his gaze and sighing deep in his chest. The room fell silent for a few tense moments as he stared at the floor. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "I am so fucked up, Sam... I barely know who I am anymore."

The angry expression fell from Sam's face, a lump starting to form in his throat. Seeing Dean hurt was the worst thing in the world. Even though he was the younger brother, that in no way stopped Sam from feeling protective of Dean in any way. He suddenly wanted to reach out and hold his older brother, but he stopped himself from giving in so easily. Somewhere deep inside, he was still angry.

"I do care about you," Dean said, lifting his head to stare at Sam, his eyes glazed over with tears. "I'm just selfish, Sam. I've spent these past months thinking about myself, and how scared I am that I'm probably going to hell soon. And being possessed by a sadistic son-of-a-bitch didn't help..."

Sam glanced at the anti-possession tattoo on Dean's chest, remembering all too well the trouble the Pishacha had caused from inside Dean's body. But they didn't have to worry about that anymore.

"I guess I haven't even stopped to think about how I might be hurting you," Dean continued. "And I'm sorry, I am... But I can't help it, Sam."

He wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, before reaching out and slowly slipping his fingertips into the waistband of Sam's shorts.

Sam's heart began to thud harder.

Suddenly, Dean gripped the shorts and yanked his brother towards him. Sam stumbled forward, his body crashing into Dean's. Before he could react, Dean's mouth was on his, kissing him with such force that it felt like he was trying to suck the life out of him. His fingers reached further into Sam's shorts, wrapping around his cock and immediately beginning to work the soft, warm flesh in his hand.

"No!" Sam gasped, breaking out of Dean's kiss and turning away, panting for breath. The waistband of his shorts snapped against his skin as Dean's hand slipped out of them.

"No?" Dean asked, frowning, his lips wet and glistening with saliva as he moved towards Sam's back. "Please, Sammy. You have to forgive me... I need you..."

"No," whispered Sam, his resolve beginning to weaken. It was getting harder to pretend he didn't want this so badly.

Dean slid his hands down the back of Sam's shorts and grabbed his smooth, muscular buttocks, caressing them gently. "No...?" he said. "Turn around and tell me 'No,' Sammy... Just say the word, and I'll stop..."

Sam stayed silent. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes tight.

"I thought so," Dean whispered in his ear.


	5. Chapter 5

"**POSSESSION CAN DO WEIRD THINGS TO A GUY"**

**chapter five**

Dean sunk to his knees and slowly, teasingly pulled down Sam's underwear, his eyes never leaving his brother's for even a second. Sam lifted his feet, one after the other, as Dean slipped the boxer shorts off from around his ankles and then threw them over his shoulder.

They studied each other with quiet fascination as Dean slowly rose to his feet, sliding off his own underwear, before taking Sam by the hand and leading him back over to the bed.

Without warning, he shoved Sam hard, sending him hurtling backwards. He landed in the tangled mess of sheets with a dazed look on his face, his legs and arms splayed out. Before he could react, Dean was on him. He straddled Sam's groin, leaning down and gently pressing his lips against his brother's.

Sam responded gingerly at first, with soft, tender kisses, before raising himself up onto his elbows and pushing their mouths harder together. He slid his tongue eagerly into Dean's mouth and moaned softly, sliding his hands around Dean's waist and resting them on his hips.

Dean breathed a soft laugh in Sam's mouth. Sam pulled away from the kiss and stared up at him, looking slightly bewildered.

"What is it...?" he asked breathlessly.

His older brother gazed down at him. He wore a loving, almost melancholic expression as he studied Sam's face.

"Nothing," he replied with a bittersweet smile, bringing his hand up to Sam's face and brushing a strand of dark hair away from his forehead. "Lay back, Sammy."

Sam did as he was told. Dean pinned his arms behind his head, and then reached over the edge of the bed for his discarded jeans. He slid the belt out of the loops and let the jeans fall back to the floor, wrapping the belt around Sam's wrists and securing them to the bedpost. As he was about to fasten the buckle, he leaned down and pressed his face against Sam's cheek.

"Is this okay?" he whispered in Sam's ear.

There was a moment of hesitation before he felt Sam's hair brushing against his face as he nodded. Dean breathed another soft laugh. From what he could feel pressing against his thigh, he knew Sam thought this was more than okay.

He fastened the belt buckle and sat upright, peering down at Sam with a playful grin on his face. Sam was biting his bottom lip in anticipation, his brow furrowed and his cheeks flushing deep pink.

Dean decided to have some fun. He shifted backwards a little, leaning down and kissing down the curve of Sam's neck, moving slowly down and licking around his nipples. He ran his tongue over the tattoo on Sam's chest, which was still slightly red and sore, and felt Sam's body shudder gently beneath him. He smiled to himself, moving further down Sam's long torso, kissing and licking a trail down his tightly muscled stomach and abdomen.

When Sam whimpered softly in his throat, beginning to squirm restlessly beneath him, Dean knew it was time to put his brother out of his misery. He moved further down Sam's body until he was kneeling on the edge of the bed, his rear end in the air and his head between Sam's legs.

He looked up to find Sam staring back at him with a look of excruciating anticipation on his face. He finally took Sam's stiff cock in his hand, the hot flesh throbbing against his fingers, and slid the head into his warm, wet mouth. Sam's head fell back into the pillows and he let out a loud sigh of relief.

Dean immediately went to work, sucking hard on his brother's cock, one hand gripping the base, his fingers nestled in Sam's thick patch of pubic hair. Sam was moaning lightly, his eyes clamped shut and his forehead creased in concentration. He gyrated his hips slightly, gently sliding himself in and out of Dean's mouth while he sucked.

Dean pulled his cock out of his mouth and began jerking it slowly, his saliva squelching around his fingers.

It didn't take long for Sam to feel like he was going to come. "Oh God," he whimpered, tilting his head back and raising his hips slightly.

Dean licked up the entire length of Sam's cock. By the time his tongue had reached the tip, Sam was already moaning in ecstasy as thick, warm semen began to erupt out of him. Dean caught the fluid on his tongue, lapping it up as it gushed out of Sam, filling his mouth with a hot saltiness. He swallowed it all, sliding his mouth back over the head of Sam's cock and sucking hard, making sure he had consumed every last drop.

Sam groaned, squirming and writhing underneath Dean, his stomach trembling as the last wave of the orgasm surged through him, until finally, it was over.

Dean lay down between Sam's legs, resting his head on Sam's stomach and closing his eyes.

"Now do you believe that I love you, Sammy...?" he whispered.

"Dean..." Sam moaned. "God, yes..."

…

"You have long fingers," said Dean. He lay with his head resting on Sam's chest, Sam's arm curled around him protectively. He was staring down at Sam's fingers, which were entwined with his own. "Freakishly long. Like a piano player."

"I have long _everything_," quipped Sam. They both laughed in unison, their bodies shaking against each other and creating a familiar spark of electricity. Dean tilted his head up and Sam leaned down, kissing him softly.

"So..." Dean sighed, pulling away from the kiss. "You never told me what Ruby came to see you about. Did she find out something new about our demon friend?"

Sam stayed quiet for a moment. "Are we really gonna talk about Ruby?" he finally answered.

Dean drew in a deep breath. "I guess not," he replied. There was no point in getting into another fight. No matter how good the make-up sex always was...

"Oh, great," he groaned when he caught a glimpse of the green digits on the clock, which read _6:04 a.m._ "We have to meet Bobby for breakfast in like twenty-five minutes."

Sam sighed. "I guess we should take a shower then," he said, getting up off the bed and heading for the bathroom.

"Together...?" Dean asked optimistically.

"I thought you said whatever the demon had done was out of your system!" Sam called from the bathroom, laughing to himself as he turned on the shower and climbed in, letting the hot water cascade over him.

"Yeah, it is..." Dean replied, bouncing up off the bed and making his way towards the bathroom.

When Sam felt a pair of hands playfully squeeze his ass, he turned to find that his brother had joined him in the shower, and was sporting a raging hard-on.

"But that doesn't mean I'm not as horny as I always was..." Dean said with a devilish grin.

…

At breakfast, Sam and Dean exchanged furtive glances across the table as they ate, smiling surreptitiously at each other when Bobby wasn't looking.

Dean almost spat out a mouthful of hash browns when Sam slid his foot up Dean's leg and rested it near his groin, smiling playfully as he brought another forkful of bacon to his lips.

Bobby stared at both of them in turn. "Somethin' funny?" he grunted.

Sam and Dean shook their heads in unison, trying to keep a straight face.

…

After waving Bobby off in the motel parking lot, the Winchesters started loading their belongings into the back of the Impala as the sun came up.

As he threw his duffel bag into the backseat, a beeping noise came from Dean's jacket pocket. He brought out a small silver device and studied it, his eyes widening, before immediately flipping open his cell phone and punching in the number.

Sam walked out of the motel reception after handing in the room key, and made his way towards the car. When he saw the look on Dean's face, he stopped and stared at him, waiting.

"You're sure?" Dean asked the person on the other end of the call. "Thanks. I owe you." He snapped the phone shut and turned to face Sam.

"What is it?" Sam asked, starting to get worried.

"I think we just found our good friend Bela," Dean said, sliding into the driver's seat.

"W-what...? Where?" Sam stuttered, quickly climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door.

Dean started the ignition. "Monument, Colorado," he murmured, speeding out of the parking lot and heading for the highway.


End file.
